


What we have...

by Camfield



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/pseuds/Camfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title:  What we have…<br/>Author: Camfield<br/>Rating:  R<br/>Fandom:  Transformers G1 AU<br/>Warnings: Violence, character death<br/>Word Count: 10,412<br/>Author’s notes:  Please excuse my lack of military knowledge.<br/>Summary:  In the heat of war there is very little that is fair.  Sometimes everything that you hold dear is ripped from your grasp and buried kicking and screaming in front of you.  One person can change the tide, just as one person can fade into the background.  Hound only knows that when he watches Blaster with his symbiotes, his spark fades a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What we have...

Hound stepped out of his apartment, stopping to let Foxflight and Glizzer settle themselves on his shoulders before moving out into the crowd, heading towards his rented office space on the other side of the city. Absentmindedly flicking through his appointments for the day and reading his messages, scheduling mecha in and sending back confirmations, the routine done by rote rather than conscious processor now.

“Idnit idnit a nice nice day? Some a shinning, sun a shining! Lovely lovely day!” Foxflight was draped over his left shoulder, tail wagging and head twisting back and forth as she watched everything she could. Her recorder emitting the high pitched whine that told Hound that she needed a tune up, inwardly groaning at the prospect of an expensive visit to the medic. Foxflight was… notoriously bad with medics, and Hound paid dearly for her proclivities.

Glizzer was silent, his multiple optics shuttering in sequence as he flicked a disdainful leg at Foxflight’s rambling. His hundred tiny needle like legs tapping against Hound affectionately, distracting him from the unpleasant thoughts of medics and his credits flying out the door and back to the pede traffic they were wading through. 

He reached up a black hand and petted Glizzer, the long symbiote rubbing back, all ten of his optics shuttering in pleasure for a klick. Foxflight venting at them both, clearly bored already and wanting attention. “Gotta gotta work? Somewhere to go to go!” She tilted her head left and right, wings reshifting to settle more comfortably against her haunches. Optics pleading as she looked at Hound, waiting for his response.

“Not yet Foxy. We have to meet with a few mecha first, then you and Glizzer can go work.” There was a grumble as she dropped her head and let it hit his shoulder plate with a clank, reshuffling again and again until Hound stilled her with a hand on her back. A laugh at her antics, because it was the same each cycle, and each cycle it was like Foxflight had forgotten the previous one, even though Hound was completely sure she did it on purpose just to make him laugh.

When they made it to the small building that their office was in, (“Finally finally!”) Hound let his symbiotes down and went to greet the secretary, a cheerful minibot named Bombus, and to turn in his appointment roster for the cycle. Glizzer and Foxflight already in his office by the time he made it there, fighting over the ‘good’ cushion to lay on.

“Foxflight, you know it's Glizzer’s turn, get off.” She did, grumbling the whole time. Snapping her slim but strong jaws when the other symbiote gave his version of a smug expression, having lived with him long enough to know what it was. 

 

And so went the day. Clients met, demonstrations given, prices agreed upon and deals finalized. Mundane and booooooring according to Foxflight as she restlessly paced the length of the room, her thin legs and tiny paws trotting back and forth in a pattern that would have worn a groove in the floor had she been less light peded. Glizzer content from his coil on the sole cushion, the other one long having succumbed to shredding by a certain bored symbiote.

“Play work play gotta gotta go go!” Foxflight turned in a quick circle, her wings half spread in agitation, and Hound picked her up and settled her in his lap. Stroking over her head and wings, Foxflight grumbling but submitting and letting Hound pet her. “Almost time. I promise.”

Glizzer made his way over and climbed up beside Foxflight, curling around her so that they both fit into Hound’s lap comfortably. “Nap first, work later.”

Another grumble, but optics shuttered and Hound soon found himself with recharging symbiote covering every inch of available leg space. Giving a smile before turning back to the paperwork that was present in and for everything.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was close to the end of the cycle, but Hound put off going back to the city proper, instead watching as Foxflight twisted through the air over the area they were scanning. Glizzer zipping along the ground perimeter, scans penetrating the metal and whatever was underneath as he collected data, leaving Hound to get the middle area. Each with their own job to do, and do happily.

“I need a good scan Foxy, you know the drill.” Hound loved that Foxflight was so energetic, even though reining her in was at times troublesome. She blew him a raspberry, but straightened out her line and flew the quadrant properly, recording the space down to the micron.

Hound compiled the data as it streamed to him, already creating the code required for his holo-generator. A miniature picture forming in front of him as it was created from the ground up, from the tunnels and small mechanimals that lived underground to the tips of the spires that jutted high into the sky. A near perfect snapshot of the area that Hound added to the map he was making of a client’s property. It was nearly done, and Hound had been working extra to see finished. They were only a few sections away from completing it, and then Hound would transfer the data to a specialized projector that would display the map in 3-D over however large of an area was imputed into the device.

“Done done all the flying is done! Time to go to go home and fuel fuel drink and be happy!” Foxflight flew in loops over his helm, perching on it with her tiny paws for a klick. “Glizzy Glizzy play play?”

Glizzer reared back, letting the long coils of his metal body serve as a base, and lifted his head and front quarter off the ground. Legs waving, optics shuttering and unshuttering quickly in the air and Hound reached down to pet him. “I’m sure Glizzer will play with you when we get home. Come on guys, I’ll make sweetened Energon tonight.”

The long symbiote trilled, his mandible jaws clicking together. Each set of his waving legs tapping the tips together in a wave that went from the first set down to where they supported him on the ground. “Let’s go!” Dropping all his legs down and turning in a tight circle. “Come on Foxflight, we’ll play later!”

Hound dropped into a crouch, hiking his aft up in the air and resting on pede and fingertips. “I’ll race you both, winner gets cuddles!”

A sound like a pop from Glizzer and they all took off back into the city, laughing and racing over the terrain until they collapsed through their door, a pile of hot metal and giggles. Each declaring that they’d won and demanding the prize, finally deciding that a cuddle pile was the only fair result before Hound gently pushed them off and went to get the Energon. Adding in the tangy sweet magnesium and iron to make it thicker before heating it. Pouring three cubes and going back to find his symbiotes wrapped around each other, nearly in recharge.

They were still young, both still technically pre-adults, and he was only just a vorn into his own adult frame. All of them living and learning together, content in their function and formed cohort. 

Glizzer was his first, the symbiote he’d been gifted by his caretakers when he’d finally reached adulthood. The long frame reminiscent of an organic creature that the Maker had seen on his travels, he’s said, and a one of a kind creation. He was long, nearly half as long as Hound was tall, and sleek. His body with hundreds of tiny interlapping metal armor plates that allowed him to stretch himself out to fit into small spaces or to squish himself together until he was a quarter as tall and four times as wide. Able to coil his body into a spiral, the hundred pin like legs resting on top of his own back as he wound around himself. His head with the large mandibles that led to a mouth full of razor sharp denta and ten fragmented optics that were connected to a special scanner suite. One capable of penetrating anything and gathering data on what was behind or underneath. 

Foxflight had been his first major purchase, about a half vorn later. The small symbiote had been on deep clearance because she was… Hound called her energetic. Her Maker had called her annoying and unsellable. Her rambunctious nature and processor glitch making her a handful even at the best of times, even though Hound knew her to be intelligent and dedicated to her work. He didn’t mind her vocal repetitions or strangely worded sentences, to him, they only added to her character. She was affectionate and loyal, and that was what mattered to Hound.

A soft smile on his face, he roused them to drink their Energon before they sleepily transformed and he slid aside a panel on his side and they slipped into their docks. In recharge the klick their systems synchronized with his.

Setting a short defrag and maintenance scan to run; Hound sipped his own Energon and relaxed on the couch. Content with his life and function for the moment.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been several vorn since Hound had started offering holograms to mecha, and as he scanned the crime scene they were at today he reflected that they hadn’t been called on to do much more than this for more than a vorn. The crime rate had escalated, and he’d noticed that the price of Energon and medical care had gone up exponentially. He was only barely able to keep them all fully fueled now, and had no extra for sweeteners like before. These jobs, as distasteful as he found them, were the only thing keeping him and his symbiotes alive. Even Foxflight had begun to stop acting so silly, something that made Hound sad, her mannerisms becoming subdued and more straightforward. Glizzer tried to fill her role in cheering Hound up, but with the long days and poorer and poorer quality fuel the energy wasn’t there for much more than work. No longer did they race home, or take trips and scan things for the pleasure of it, everything they did now was for the sole purpose of putting fuel into their tanks. A far cry from before, when Hound had started this business as a way to do something he enjoyed and make a living at the same time.

The enforcer came over to them, watching the three carefully. With everyone watching their credits carefully he often had his clients supervising his work now. Making sure that they were getting exactly what they paid for, that Hound wasn’t overcharging them for his services. It had rankled him the first time someone had asked, but now it was old hat. Expected. At least with the Enforcers he knew that they respected him and his work, they were required to watch him by their commanders, something that a few of them had snorted at, telling Hound not to worry. Formalities. Hound had helped them enough times that it was nothing more than following procedure at this point. Something that they had to do to keep command happy.

Glizzer and Foxflight completed their circuit. Vorns of practice making their circuits fast and seamless, each beginning and finishing within klicks of each other. “Done done. All to go to go home?” Foxflight leaned tiredly against his pede. This had been their fifth scan of the cycle and he knew that his symbiotes were exhausted, Glizzer barely moving as he rested, Foxflight’s optics shuttered and the flyer nearly in recharge where she stood. 

Hound compiled the data and plugged in a transmitter, copying the three dimensional scene over and handing the device to the enforcer. Giving him a tired smile before they touched arms in farewell, the credits transferring into his credit chip instantly. 

The enforcers were nearly eighty percent of his work these days. He’d accepted everyone until the startling realization that his scans were being used for… less than pure purposes. As in, the Enforcers had found one of his holodevices at a murder crime scene, depicting the dead mech’s building in detail. He’d stopped taking on clients period after that for a while, until he’d worked out as best he could how to keep himself clear of illegal activity.

So now he was on the other side of the law. Doing renders of crimes already committed for less than half of what he used to charge. If he wasn’t so tired, Hound might have been upset at the prospect, but at this point Energon was Energon, and work was work. Their continued push let him put aside a few credits each day for the days when they couldn’t find jobs, a meager and stilted existence. No longer a happy one.

Foxflight transformed into his waiting hand, letting Hound dock her the klick he was able, and Glizzer was right behind her. Rubbing his head against Hound’s leg once before tangible relief came over the hardline connection as he docked after Foxflight.

Hound trudged home. Not even bothering to do more than drink his slightly better than low-grade Energon and fall into his berth, in recharge as soon as he hit the padding.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hound was in the landlord’s office, pleading for another few days, when the first of the explosions happened. The concussion knocking them both off their pedes and to the floor, discussion forgotten as another followed soon after. The landlord already on a comm with the patron who owned the building, screams beginning to ring through the air as boom after boom filled the city. The crack of metal beams breaking and buildings falling, support gone. Mecha screaming as a group of mecha marched through; shooting anyone they could see, destroying everything in their path as they moved in a line through the rubble. 

He left the landlord screaming as a stray bolt of laser fire came through the open window and hit him full in the face. Running away, looking back once when the screaming stopped to see the now gray mech on the floor, a sparking hole in his face. Barely keeping his Energon from purging, running back up to his apartment to find his symbiotes cowering in terror in a corner of the couch. A wordless cry from Glizzer, the symbiote transforming as he jumped up to Hound, and he slid into the dock so fast he nicked the sensitive metal partition. Foxflight trembling and shaking and almost unable to transform until Hound prodded her into it. Pressing on her joints until they gave and she folded down and Hound was able to push her into the dock door, feeling her dock a klick later beside Glizzer.

The building shook with explosions and Hound ran to the storage area, stacking and compressing his Energon cubes. Hastily and carefully placing them in his subspace pockets, not even filling one with the meager store he’d managed to stockpile. Rushing to the berth room and taking everything and anything he could stuff into his second subspace. Extra holotransmitters, a thermal blanket, a jug of coolant and one of oil, a tube of lubricant and his spare piece kit. Finally shwipping the pocket closed and heading toward the door, his holo generator already running to cover him, making the door look closed even as he opened it and peered out.

With no one in sight he took off, pedes pounding against the floor as he ran. Slipping from the door into an alley, moving through the backs of the partially standing buildings when he could, and throwing up his holograms when he couldn’t. Stopping whenever he came across something he could use, especially Energon, and picking it up. His subspace pockets and his arms full in a very short period of time. Making it to the edge of the city and into the expanse that was between it and the neighboring city. He knew these expanses, intimately. He’d taken scans of them many times, and knew that there were a few hidey holes where he could squat for a few cycles while he figured out what to do.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hound had thought that the mecha who had attacked would leave, - what would they want with a fallen city? - but after a few decacycles he realized that they weren’t just inhabiting, they were building. Taking what they needed from one half of the city to rebuild the other half. Not the skyscrapers or business buildings, but housing. Turning nearly all of the extra space into living quarters.

He’d snuck back into the city several times, his symbiotes as well, scavenging for Energon. Watching from shadows as the soldiers laughed and teased each other, not looking like they cared in the least that they’d destroyed hundreds of lives. Joking about it, about how weak ‘city bots’ were, and Primus have mercy when they caught a survivor. Turning torturing and killing into a spectator sport, where each of them made bets on how much damage the mech or femme could take before they offlined. Draining the sometimes still alive mecha of their Energon and greedily watching through the death throes.

Hound made sure that he wasn’t caught. He refused to let his symbiotes go through that, refused.

Still, there reached a point when there was nothing left to scavenge in the bit of the city he’d lived in. A small patrol of soldiers searching for anything that had been left behind, leaving nothing of value behind, no matter how small it seemed. 

The fact that even he couldn’t get into the fortified part of the city meant that Hound was out of options as far as Energon was concerned. He could start killing other mecha for what they had in their tubing, but… the thought made him blanch. He knew some of them personally, had been friends with them before all of this. It was a far off and distant thought that told him that they would kill him for his Energon in a spark beat, one that he ignored along with the thought that he should attack them first.

It was true, however, that he was on the last of their Energon. They’d been splitting and rationing, but even with that they were down to their last cubes. They’d have to find something, and fast, if they wanted to keep going.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Hound had decided that his best bet was to join the same army that had destroyed his city, he knew that he had no other options left. Deactivation was assured, but if he joined up with the soldiers he might be able to find another carrier mech to take Glizzer and Foxflight before he was expended. If nothing else, he might be able to barter his skills and frame… at least for a while.

He knew that they had snipers placed along the perimeter, as well as guards posted at every available opening into what was now a true encampment. Hound knew that the second he revealed himself there would be a volley of blaster fire. Truly his only measure for survival was to distract them with a hologram and potentially wow them into listening. If it didn’t work, well it would take the last of his Energon to make the hologram anyway. His symbiotes stayed docked all the time now, because it conserved energy that they couldn’t afford to expend. This was a final gamble that Hound had something that the army could use.

So with a deep vent he powered up his generator and spun out a huge visage of himself. The softlight copy was not solid, blaster fire would do nothing but pass right through, and it would be up to his own real time coding to the generator making it look like damage was being done. It was risky, but it was all he had.

Instantly bursts of red fired out and Hound was lost in a sea of data. Trying to compensate for the blaster fire with blackened scorch marks, pits and holes, all the while making it move forward towards the gate. Projecting his voice so that it was loud enough to be heard, hoping that they would be too busy to notice that the voice wasn’t actually coming from the giant.

“Stop! I have a proposal for you!”

A ceasefire was called and one mech stood out slightly from the rest. “You have a breem. Start talking.”

Hound was at his limit, stumbling forward, the hologram freezing as the code stream was interrupted. Breaking down in front of the soldiers, the shouts of amazement ringing in the air as golden strands of code literally spiraled down the hologram, disintegrating it into nothing. “I’ll barter you for my skill, in exchange for fuel and a place in your army.” He was shaking, tank running on fumes, legs barely able to keep his frame from hitting the ground.

The stares gave him hope, no one raising a rifle in his direction. The mech who’d given him a breem staring open mouthed for a klick before straightening up and barking to a soldier to get the commander. The rest of them not moving, all standing and staring at Hound with a variety of expressions. Some openly awed, others with sneers of distain over their faces. Hound trying hard to keep himself standing, locking his knee joints and struggling to not fall. His HUD blaring stasis lock warnings at him, the only thing he could do was stand there and hope someone would offer him a mouthful of fuel, anything. 

Just as he was about to break and beg, the mecha who must have been the commander appeared. Walking with a carefully measured stride out of the encampment and over to Hound, his aide (or bodyguard, Hound wasn’t sure) a step behind him and holding a quarter ration of Energon. Not enough to do anything but boost him to ten percent energy, but enough that his legs would stop shaking and the warnings would cease to blare at him internally. 

When it was held out to him he looked at the commander first, the last shreds of his control fraying. Taking it when he received a nod and sipping slowly, because even as low as he was, Hound knew that if he drank it all at once it would only come back up.

So he sipped, slowly, and his energy levels rose by fractions. Partial percents until he finally hit eight, the cube finished and his tank aching for more.

“I’m impressed. Most mecha in your place would have gulped that down in one go. You have a good deal of restraint.” The commander nodded to the other mech, and a full cube of Energon was produced, Hound gratefully accepting and forcing himself to again sip on the cube. Ignoring the shaking of his hands as they fought to keep him from pouring the fuel down his intake as quickly as possible. “Follow me.”

Hound did, falling in step behind the commander, the other mech moving behind him, trapping him between the two. It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t have tried to escape anyway, not when he was holding a decent cube of midgrade, and his energy levels rising as he sipped into a range they hadn’t been in decacycles. As long as there was Energon and a bunk, Hound would do whatever they wanted him to do.

They led him inside a building and he was gestured to sit down, the commander sitting behind a desk and gesturing to his companion. The mech refilling Hound’s cube even though it hadn’t been fully empty. “You don’t have to-“

“I am aware that I do not. However you have already exhibited several desirable traits, not including the stunt that I’ve only heard about. We could use a mech of your talents to serve Megatron.”

The name rang a distant bell, but Hound honestly wouldn’t have cared if he’d been joining Unicron’s army of undead. 

“If you are sufficiently fueled, perhaps another demonstration?” The mech let the question dangle in the air, but Hound knew he wasn’t really being asked. With a nod he looked around the room, finally landing on the aide/bodyguard. His scans initiated and he spent a quarter breem cataloging the mech before once again activating his generator and spinning the code into a hardlight hologram. His processor working smoothly, no hitches or glitches for the first time in decacycles, the hologram coming out easily, perfectly. An exact match to the mech that stood to the side of the commander’s desk.

Each of them reached out to touch it, startling when they encountered what felt like warm solid metal. Hound making it reach out and pick up a stylus from the desk, then a pad, and a small bit of script appeared before it was set back down. The hologram turning to face its original and suddenly mirroring each move he made. 

There was a tiny delay, because Hound had to instantaneously write code and transmit it to the hologram, but the expression on the commander’s face told him what he already knew, it was good. Mannerisms matched up, only the barest delay in reciprocating movement; it was his best trick, his trump card. 

“How realistic is that?” The question startled him, but there was only a blip in the hologram before he refocused. 

“I can recreate anything I can scan from the smallest component out. Obviously there is a direct relation between energy cost to run it and the level of complexity within the hologram. A strict light hologram is the most energy efficient, down to a full, three dimensional fully articulated subject as the least energy efficient. I can create a softlight hologram as big and full as needed, anywhere. A hardlight hologram is different; it can only be in a space that has room for it. It is essentially solid." He focused again on the existing hologram, then it took off armor plates and set them down on the commander’s desk until it stood in bare protoform. Wires and cables visible everywhere and the hologram reached up and undid the latches on his interface panel, extending a cable to the real thing. The aide looking for confirmation before clicking it into his port, hesitantly offering his cable back, the hologram taking it and plugging it into his own port.

The commander looked back and forth between the original and copy. “Well?”

“It doesn’t have my memories, my files, I’m… I’m not really sure what to say commander.” He shifted uncomfortably, still tethered to his double.

“If I have information, the hardlight copy can actually interface. It’s dependent on more than a few things though on how successful it is. First being how well the mech it is interfacing knows the real thing. I’ve used this on mech’s before who knew immediately that it wasn’t who it looked like, even though none of them could tell why. The more information I have, the better it can be. Right now it is like interfacing an empty data pad, all space to be filled.” Hound really disliked using his holograms to interface, but he had occasionally had clients who wanted to know if their partners were cheating on them, and a hardlight hologram had provided perfect bait.

After they’d disconnected he let the hologram fade away sitting back in the chair and folding his hands into his lap. In their docks he could feel Foxflight and Glizzer stirring. His upped energy levels waking them out of the stasis they’d gone into to conserve energy. Feeling them buzz happiness at him over the hardline link and smiling softly, touching his dock door.

“Something else you want to tell us?” Hound startled, looking at them with confused optics until he realized that his hand was still over the nearly hidden catch of his symbiote dock slot. He glanced between the two, unsure if they were asking if he was hiding something or if there was something else that he needed to tell them

“Ah, uhm, my symbiotes just came out of stasis. We’ve, uh, been without fuel for a pretty long while…” He wasn’t sure if that was the right answer, but it was there, in the open.

“You’re a carrier? How many can you dock?” The questions left him gaping for a klick. 

“I can dock four, but I only have two right now. I was due for my six slot upgrade just a little before… uh, well you know.” He shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, pity that.” There was none in the commander’s voice, but Hound hadn’t expected any. “Well this is a fortuitous turn of events. I think that I can conclusively offer you a position in Megatron’s army, your skills will be a great benefit to our cause.”

 

Hound stood, taking the hand that was offered and shaking it firmly. “Thank you sir!”

“Alright. Switchblade will show you to your room and explain everything.” He waved them out, already focused back on the data pads that were stacked on his desk.

Switchblade turned and walked out, Hound following with his hands clutched together. “You’ll not want to do that.” The voice catching him off guard and making him jerk. “Or that either. This isn’t a soft place, mech. You’d best toughen yourself up, or not even the fanciest of tricks will save you.”

He nodded, hands falling to his sides, trying to affect and easy and confident stride. “I’ll do my best sir.”

There was a snort. “I’m sure you will. House rules are this. Don’t kill anyone, don’t get yourself killed, and don’t damage property. Break two out of those three and you’ll find yourself on punishment detail. Break the third… well I’m sure you can figure out what happens then. Be in your room by curfew, don’t take more than your ration of Energon and don’t let your symbiotes run around here. Mecha would kill them for the sport, and if the commander wants you fully active, including your symbiotes, that’s what he’ll get. You got it?” Switchblade hadn’t looked back at him once, but Hound had no doubt that he was watching him.

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Go and recharge. Someone will be by with another Energon cube later and you’ll start training next cycle.” With that, Switchblade stopped in front of a door, entering a code into the keypad and databursting it to Hound. Stepping aside to let him in and continuing down the corridor.

Hound stepped in and the door swished shut behind him, gratefully dropping onto the berth and slipping into recharge.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For the next vorn Hound trained with the army. They called themselves Decepticons, serving under a mech named Megatron, and according to Switchblade they were out for equal rights for all Cybertronians regardless of class or upbringing.

Hound agreed with their philosophy, if not with their methods, but kept himself dutifully silent. They were his meal ticket after all, and the more he got to know them the more he realized that there was very little they wouldn’t do to ensure that their agenda was followed. The less attention he drew to himself, the less he found himself in positions that threatened to compromise his position in the army. There were mecha who hated him on principle, because Hound had been middle class and the vast majority of them had been at the bottom of the pool, one step away from deactivation at any time.  
Even though in the ranks he started at the bottom, just the same as any other new recruit, his skills and incredible attention to detail had him promoted to a sub-commander in a very short time. The purple insignia that was the faction symbol painted against his green armor with a flourish.

And even more thankfully, Hound found himself in charge of mostly ranged fighters. Mecha that weren’t on the front lines, specifically because his ability was one that needed protection, the Commander had built a cavalry around him. One that had ranged fighters, because wasting resources was unheard of, and mechpower was such a resource, and a small contingent of melee fighters that stayed ringed around Hound whenever they went out in formation. 

Like now. Megatron had ordered for a few contingents to join him in Kaon, and Hound knew that there was something being planned even though none of them knew specifics, just that the Commander had specifically hand-picked the contingents that were now travelling over the metal terrain.

It wasn’t a rough journey, they were decently maintained and fueled, but it was boring. There was very little to look at, and though their lines stayed clean and their pedesteps crisp, the grumbles of mecha who were making trouble ran through every group. The sub-commanders having to get more and more vicious in their punishments as the orns rolled by with very little change.

Hound disliked leading. He much preferred following orders, even though he acknowledged the advantages of his position, and most of his mecha knew it. They didn’t get away with more than any of the others, that would have been suicide on Hound’s part, but they were more open about their contempt, more willing to take the punishments and wear their expressions where he could see them.

But they were also the first to react when the missiles came streaking in. A well-practiced maneuver that tucked Hound at their center as they moved quickly away from the initial impact point, Hound releasing Foxflight with an order to find the attackers, and directing his troops efficiently the klick he received the information. The first line went down to the ground, rifles already lined up and shooting, the second line on one knee, each line after that staggered slightly so that the heat of the blaster fire was felt as it passed between helms and shoulders. The melee fighters tight around Hound, each ready and watching for breaks as the gunners took down the first wave of enemy fighters. His holo generator whirred and specialized mods he’d been fitted with at the Commander’s request roared in facsimile of Seeker turbine engines. The carefully built softlight hologram going from tiny to full sized as he made it look like a squad of Seekers roaring in, shouts rising from the enemy mecha as his squad fired into them, the holograms firing as close to the same spots as Hound could calculate, each one of the dozen flyers breaking off as they flew directly over the enemy’s helms and back over to Hound to ‘regroup’.

Glizzer was still tucked in his dock, his low frame made it easy to miss him and after he’d been stepped on and damaged once Hound had kept him docked during battles, but Foxflight was invaluable, something that he knew hurt Glizzer’s feelings. 

Foxflight’s small frame could zip in or behind places and take scans and be out before anyone realized she was there. As small as she was relative to Hound, it was fairly easy for her to keep out of optical range, and she had her own mods that made her flight soundless as well. In training, it was only her exuberance that had gotten her caught, and she’d proved in her very first battle that she knew how to work when the time for games was past. She’d gotten a grudging bit of respect, more than was even afforded Hound by some of the mecha.

She was flying high, above even the holograms, sending back a complete picture of the enemy forces. Hound grew more and more nervous with each pass, they might have been better trained, but the opposing mecha had numbers on their side. Each klick that they stayed here now counted, and Hound already couldn’t be sure that they would be able to make it to safety.

“Fall back! Enemy has reinforcements coming in, ratio going from approximately 1:2 to 1:5 in less than four breems!” He could already hear the noise that came from hundreds of pede steps on the ground. The vibrations coming up through his sensitive sensors. None of them wanted to stay and be slaughtered. The call went from squad to squad until they were in a full blown retreat, falling back, hoping to head into the jagged cliffs that they’d walked through last cycle. 

Hound directed his troops, the whole unit wheeling around and pulling out as quickly as they could. Shots streaming in all around them, with mecha falling and being trampled as the undamaged ignored their comrades. His hologram disappearing as his focus snapped, just barely able to direct the tetrajet forms back the way they’d come, an imperfect solution and one he knew would be exposed the second they reviewed the information from the battle.

The enemy had pushed forward and Hound could hear the cries of dying mecha. Shots ringing out as the Decepticons shot their own injured and pushed on, not willing to let the enemy have anything that they could use against them. Vents coming harshly as they ran on, root mode travel the only way to get over the pitted and composite clump filled terrain. No one talking, audials focused on the sound of the approaching enemy.

Foxflight swooped in, her slight frame pulling up to land on Hound’s shoulder when a bolt of red flashed and her scream rent the air. Hound stumbling in shock as pain poured through the symbiote bond, only staying on his feet because one of the frontliners yanked on his arm. “Foxflight!” He twisted against the hold on his arm and managed to get free, bodily shoving his way back through the fleeing mecha to where the little flyer had landed and scooping her to his chassis. One of the gunners knocking into his shoulder and sending him sprawling to the ground, Hound’s arms locked around his symbiote as pedes pounded past. Shock and pain still radiating through him as he pushed to his pedes, stumbling after his squad, after mecha who would sooner kill him than help him but for orders.

He slowed, Foxflight limp in his arms. Feeling her systems slow, her Energon leaking in a torrent from the hole in her neck, optics already dim. “Come on Foxy, hang on.” His words were frantic, fingers digging into her plating as he tried to find the leak and stop it. Everything slippery and stained pink as Hound felt Foxflight give up. Howling his rage and grief to the wind, cradling her to his face and pressing kisses to her tiny head. 

“Love love Hound Glizzy… All go all go Well… love lo…ve…” She licked his cheek slowly before going limp, coolant tears mixing with Energon on her dermal plating as the color left her body.

 

When the pursuing mecha came across him a short time later he put up no protest to the stasis cuffs they put on him, only holding Foxflight’s form to his chassis. Ignoring everything around him as he and Glizzer grieved together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hound came to in a brig, Foxflight’s frame gone and his hands still cuffed together. There was a blue and gray mech on the other side of the Energon bars holding a datapad, sitting, most likely waiting for him to wake up.

He shifted and blue optics came up to meet his own, the mech gesturing to the guard and coming inside the cell, standing across from Hound.

“State your designation.”

“Hound.”

“What was your position in the army?”

“Sub-commander.”

“Why were you on that road.”

“Orders to report to Kaon, I don’t know why.”

“We have information that Megatron attacked your hometown, why would you join his army?”

Hound hesitated. “I… I didn’t, at first. But there was no more Energon and we…” Pain lanced through him at the thought of Foxflight. “I was trying to survive. There was nothing left, nowhere else to go. It was the last option I had.”

The mech looked at him with pity, Hound turning away. He didn’t need their pity, didn’t need their sympathy. “I had my hologenerator, so I bartered with the commander for fuel and a place to recharge. I’d join their army, I wouldn’t die.”

“I see. And the Seekers on the battlefield were your creation?”

He nodded.

“Impressive, very impressive. Would you be interested in using your skills for our side?”

There was a klick, a moment in time where Hound’s optics turned accusing and disbelieving. The mech staring back steadily, waiting for Hound to answer. 

“You killed my symbiote and yet you still ask me to join you?” His tone was harsh, accusing.

“Many have died on both sides of this war.” 

“I’ve never killed anyone.”

“Perhaps not, but you’ve provided distractions that allowed your soldiers to kill. The responsibility is still for their lives still rests on your shoulders.”

“So you ask me to make reparations? To avenge your dead by doing the same for you?”

“No. Your former companions already know of you and will be wary whenever they see you on the battlefield. We would like you to help us in a different capacity.” The mech turned off his datapad. 

“Are you giving me a choice, or…”

“Your choice is the security of fuel and a recharge berth with us, or being removed from the base. There is no Energon in the hills between here and the nearest city, and we cannot spare any for civilians.”

Hound sat back, his cuffed hands going again to his dock door. Glizzer was all he had left, and to put him in danger when he had an available Energon source… “You play a cruel game.”

“We play no game. We seek to win this war before too many of our kind are lost. If that means that I am to be labeled cruel and insensitive then I would do it as many times over as was needed.” Hound received a pointed look. 

Again Hound had no options. Again he was trapped between starvation and fighting for a cause he knew nothing of.

“I will join your army.”

“Good. Come then, you will need a medical scan before we can clear you for the barracks.”

Hound stood and followed the mech, resignation in every move he made. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The medic had said little to him, speaking instead to the mech who had brought him here. They had scraped off the purple insignia on both him and Glizzer, paying no mind to the symbiote’s cries of pain and Hound’s desperate struggle to get over to him. Only releasing him when the derma was scraped raw and a shiny red symbol was fixed to the spot in place of the old.

Glizzer clung to Hound, the carrier glaring at anyone that came near. Baring his denta but keeping his glossa still and his vocalizer off to still the vitriol that threatened to spew from his mouth, optics white with excess energy that belied his trepidation and anger.

As soon as the medic announced he was clear, he was taken to the housing building. Given a code and told someone would be by in the morning, a familiar scene to Hound.

His three roommates were in training, and early next cycle Hound would go for evaluations to show the trainers what he knew. Sitting in the darkened room he curled around Glizzer, petting and soothing his symbiote as best he could with the pain and fear that ran through his spark. 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hound had expected the Autobots, the army of the new Prime, to be like his previous experience with military, but quickly found that there was very little that held a parallel.

There was a different air around them. The rules Hound was given were extensive, but he could see how they kept the soldiers in patterns. Mecha were a lot less Energon thirsty, they didn’t pick fights to see another mech bleed, or because they held grudges over uncontrollable happenings.

Or, at least, they didn’t advertise their grudges, which was almost as good.

Instead, extra energy was directed into training. Mecha were encouraged to visit one of the many training rooms during off joors, even though everyone already suffered the tender mercies of the old fighting specialist Ironhide. There was always someone in the rooms willing to supervise a sparring match, and Hound found that for the first time since he joined the Decepticons he actually enjoyed training with his cadremates. The competition was friendly, none of them out for blood even when sparring got heated, and losing a match didn’t give your opponent weaknesses to exploit.

Even Glizzer was allowed to participate, the other mechs actually going out of their way to be careful of where he was. For Hound, it made having to be in the army a little easier to bear, knowing that the mecha he trained with had his back. Would be there fighting FOR him, not just with him. It was a difference in processor set that had baffled him at first. Instead of just fighting for themselves, they also fought for each other. The unselfish nature of it all was almost… strange, and it took Hound a little while to become accustomed to the difference in fighting styles. Of being aware of the mecha that were alongside of him and how he could help them, or how they could help him.

His former squad had had implicit trust in weapons skills. Only the best of the marksbots had been placed there, and they were required to keep a very high percentage of shots to hits. Anything lower than ninety-eight percent was unacceptable and their kill count showed it. He could count on them to hit whatever was gunning for him, but not to adjust themselves for him. Hound learned to sense where his companions were, and to support them, and let himself be supported. It was new, and he found that he enjoyed the camaraderie it brought about.

Everything was going well, was going better than he’d even hoped, when Glizzer suddenly began purging Energon. Hound had taken him to the medic, had run as many diagnostics and scans as he had available, but everything came back without a cause, without a solid reason. The symbiote was unable to keep Energon down, unable to dock because his electrical system shorted every time he tried. They had moved him into the medical bay, Hound sleeping on the berth with Glizzer trying to curl up between bouts of purging. Crying out in pain and exhaustion, his systems shorting and glitching for no discernible reason that any of them could see. Both of them enduring test after test, complete fluid transfusions, and Glizzer going through part replacement that left his body a mess of welds. The metal rusting from the inside out, and all Hound could do was hold him close. Bathing him in his EM field, trying to soothe and provide any comfort that he could. Praying to a god that he’d long abandoned to save his symbiote from whatever was going wrong.

It lasted a full decaorn. Ten orns and Glizzer’s body was wracked with infection, corrosive fluid seeping out of half healed welds, six of his ten optics dim and un-operational, the sensor suite that was connected to them sending constant errors to his processor. His mouth constantly leaking oral lubricant, mandibles hanging from their hinges, Glizzer unable to even move them properly anymore. Hound curling around the broken body, trying not to touch and cause him more pain, but trying to comfort him all the same.

The medic quietly informed him that one of the First Command tier for the entire Autobot army was coming, and that he would be by to see them both in the medbay. Hound didn’t know why someone so high up was coming to see them, as far as he knew he wasn’t really anything special. He hadn’t even really done any work with his hologenerator since joining the Autobots, really.

Glizzer whimpered, every movement he made trying to get more comfortable sending jolts of pain through his neural net, and Hound put thoughts of everything else aside. Stroking a finger over a smooth patch of metal, sending soothing waves through his EM field, and again praying for a miracle.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“No! I won’t let you!” Hound stood in front of the medical berth, denta bared. The red mech, another carrier, that had come from First Command looking at him in sympathy. “Please, you can’t!”

“I’m sorry Hound. We don’t have the resources to continue to keep you and him here indefinitely. We can’t afford to feed and care for mecha that don’t put energy back into the system. We’ve already gone over the limit as it is, on my orders, because I know what you’re going through. Please don’t make this harder than it is.” Twincast had his hands spread out in front of him, keeping his frame close to the door. A threatened carrier was a dangerous one, and he knew it better than anyone else. Hound had already lost one symbiote, not even a quarter vorn had gone by since the battle where Foxflight had been shot, and this one was going downhill rapidly. The medics had no answers for him, no idea why his systems were revolting, almost as if they were fighting the frame that housed them. 

Hound’s hologenerator hummed to life, and suddenly Twincast found himself facing a dozen snarling Turbowolves, each perfectly articulated and moving independently. His spark stuttered, but he kept his voice low and calm, the wild look in Hound’s optics a reminder that the wolves weren’t the main focus. Hound was. The wolves were extensions, limbs, and Twincast had to navigate carefully to get to the body.

“Hound. Tell us what we can do to help your symbiote get better, not just alive, and we’ll do it. The medics don’t know what is wrong; they don’t know how to FIX HIM. Tell us how we can fix him, and we’ll do it Hound.” His voice was pitched low, soothing, the same way he would speak to his own symbiotes when they were frightened or angry. Watching as the blind rage in Hound’s optics was replaced with fear, with desolation. He didn’t know how to fix Glizzer anymore than they did, didn’t know what was wrong with his ailing symbiote. Hound only knew that bits of his life had been falling away since that first attack, and the last chunk was dangling by a wire, ready to fall and smash him into tiny pieces.

He couldn’t. COULDN’T let them take Glizzer. Every part of his being cried out at losing his first and last symbiote, at the thought of being alone. Carrier mechs were never alone. A Carrier without symbiotes was half of a whole, a non-complete entity. Hound whipped around and scooped up Glizzer, cries of pain from the symbiote wrenching at his spark, and his wolves pushed Twincast to the side of the room with fangs and snarls. Bursting out of the medical bay and running, pedes crashing to the ground as he pushed his way through everyone, his hardlight holograms keeping anyone who gave chase away, tripping them up and sending them to the ground. 

Each move making Glizzer keen in pain. Each move pulling on Hound’s spark.

And still he ran. Processor whirring as it tried to come up with some way he could get out and survive, get both of them to safety somewhere and find a medic willing to work on Glizzer. Going back to the Decepticons crossing his thoughts, anything that held a glimmer of hope for fixing the body in his arms.

There was nothing. It all came back negative. There was nothing in range, no one close enough. Glizzer would deactivate long before they reached the next city, if not from the infection, then from the Energon that leaked constantly from his mouth.

Nothing. 

Nothing.

A sob escaped him and he slowed down, the Turbowolves dissipating around him, and sagged against a large chunk of mineral composite, sitting down on the ground. He held Glizzer tight to his chassis and sung. Choked words of better orns and folktales that he’d told his symbiotes in their first vorn together. Small, silly stories with lessons that wove through them, songs that had no other purpose than to make you laugh, sad poems and prose that had left them all in a comforting cuddle pile… Anything and everything he could think of. Speaking to fill the silence, to ease his symbiote to the Well. An external hardline cable snickking them together, Hound filling the link with as much love and happy feelings as he could muster, manually shutting down Glizzer’s neural net and Energon distribution system, his fuel pump growing sluggish and stopping. Vents no longer dragging in air to cool overheated systems, everything turned off, shut down, and still Hound crooned lullabies and sparkling songs to the cooling frame. Glizzer sending his own goodbye, his gratitude and sorrow, back through the link. His pain no longer overwhelming, his processor clear for the first time in orns even as it shut down. The remaining good optics shuttering one by one until finally, finally the frame turned gray, fragmented, parting thoughts of love and devotion trickling through as Hound held tight to the body. Coolant tears splashing down over dead metal as the sound of pounding pedes reached his audials.

Hound didn’t move. Just sat there, like he’d done with Foxflight. A dead symbiote in his arms and no care for the outside world.

Twincast looked at him pityingly. “I’m sorry Hound. I wish we could have saved him.”

He said nothing. There was nothing he could say. Hound’s dim optics stared through the mecha that had given chase, not acknowledging any of them as they murmured condolences. Not letting go of the dead frame when he was pulled to his pedes and let back to the base.

Ignoring everyone as he shut himself up and away. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Keep an optic out for him. He was young, and losing both symbiotes in such a short period of time…”

“Understood sir.”

“I’m not sure if he’ll let that frame out of his sight. Make sure it gets cleaned out and sealed, at least then he can have it without it rotting all over the place.”

“As soon as we can sir. Anything else?”

Hound heard Twincast vent softly. “Keep me updated.”

“Yes sir.”

The door opened and Twincast walked in, but Hound didn’t react. Didn’t look up from the spot on the floor that he was staring at. 

“I wish you hadn’t run Hound. That makes this more complicated than it needed to be.” Twincast sat in the chair across from him, arms crossing in front of his chest. “You’ll be watched. Not allowed to go anywhere alone, you know that, don’t you?”

He stayed silent.

“I’m making it an order that you not be allowed to have another symbiote. I can’t trust you to think properly, and I can’t have you running away again, for any reason.”

At that Hound surged up, hatred filling his optics. “You take away everything. Better I should have stayed with the Decepticons, at least there I had value worth more than you give me.”

Twincast gave him a long, hard look. “I didn’t take away anything you didn’t lose on your own. We would have given you time here to deactivate Glizzer. We would have let you have a mourning period and the frame would already be sealed and back in your arms. You were the one who ruined things for yourself Hound, not us.”

 

“Frag that and frag you! All of you! This army! This WAR! You and the whole Autobot faction can go stuff rocks in your tailpipes! I won’t fight for you, not again!” He trembled where he sat cuffed to the medical berth, arms straining to break free, to smash into the mech before him. “You wouldn’t have made that call if it were one of your own!”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have made the call, but one of the Command would have. We can’t spend resources indefinitely Hound, we don’t have that luxury. If, Primus forbid, one of my symbiotes becomes a liability, I will be ordered to do the same as you. To deactivate them! All of us answer to the rules; none are exempt from them, not even the Prime.” He swept a hand over his helm, standing and moving back towards the door. “You will be fitted with another sensor suite. Special Operations needs a scout, and you are the best choice for the position. You’ll be joining them as soon as your mods are fitted.”

The red mech turned and walked out the door, leaving Hound to stew in his own thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Welcome ta SpecOps mah mech!”

A friendly hand clapped onto Hound’s shoulder and he startled, managing not to jump outwardly. “Hello commander.” His voice was flat, un-emotive.

“Ah dunno what yah were told, but Ah’m gonna lay yah on th’ line right here. Ah have yah because no one else wanted a mech they hadta botsit. Yah gonna be good, or Ah’m all set ta put an explosive in yah helm and make yah walk into a Decepticon outpost. Yah get t’ decide which way ta take it.” The black and white mech crossed his arms, looking at Hound seriously. “This ain’t no game, an’ Ah don’t take kindly t’ bots who don’t want ta live. Ah’ll hack yah if Ah have ta, but yah gonna behave. Ah make mahself clear?”

Hound’s optics burned bright with anger, but his mouth tightened and he stood up straight, saluting the mech. “Crystal, Commander.”

“Good. Now yah put on a smile an’ follow ol’ Meister and meet th’ rest of yah teammates.” Hound followed the mech, his hands clasped in fists by his side and a large, fake smile on his face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Everyone move! Now! We have less than a breem before take-off and I want you on this ship well before it leaves. MOVE!”

Hound ran aboard, following the line of mecha that filled the hallways looking for direction. It was pandemonium. The ship hadn’t been completed, but they were out of time and already almost too far behind for it to matter. He reached the command deck and sat at the controls for one of the external guns, watching as the countdown flashed over the screen and the thrusters engaged. The clank of heavy metal as the bay doors closed and finally, the force of atmosphere pushing him back into his seat as they climbed into the air. The engines roaring as it was propelled forward, churning out heat, trying to get as far from the planet and the Decepticons as possible.

It didn’t matter; the purple ship that followed was much faster, much more suited to combat then the unwieldy cargo Ark. Hound firing halfsparkedly at the battlecruiser, knocked from his chair as they connected the ships and boarded. Adding his blaster fire into the fray only when Meister sent a comm his way.

They struggled, fought, and Hound wondered why he didn’t deactivate. The shots seemed to miss him, flying by as though they had been aimed somewhere else entirely even when he could clearly see the Decepticon looking at him over the barrel of their blaster. Grabbing the back of his chair when gravity suddenly pulled the ship down, the planet’s atmosphere that they’d gotten stuck in sucking them down to the surface with increasing velocity until they could go no faster. The last thought in his processor of his dead symbiotes, hoping that the Well existed, and that Primus would forgive him.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Earth 

Waves of pain rolled through him, residual effects of Teletraan reviving him from stasis and not knowing what to do about the edges of his spark that called out to something that wasn’t there. The AI had simply run a rolling reboot on all of them, not paying attention to blocks or partitions, opening his wounds as fresh as the cycle they’d been inflicted.

He knew they still watched him. Jazz, Meister’s new alias, was no longer behind the scenes, but Hound knew that his daily system logs were recorded and his roommate watched him. All of them looking for any signs that Hound would break. 

They sympathized, he knew. Especially Bumblebee, who had known him back all those vorns ago when he was selling his skills because he enjoyed it, the yellow minibot frequently partnered with him on scouting and patrol missions. Always cheerful, always careful, and Hound didn’t have to pretend as hard around him, because he made it easier to give a real smile, and no matter how wan it seemed, Bumblebee would always beam back as if Hound had made his day.

Still, every time Hound saw Blaster interact with his newly reformatted cassettes it ripped out another, small piece of his spark. 

His ban was still in effect, but more than that was that there were no more Makers that he knew of. No one to create the tiny, intricate systems and armor with skill and care to detail. No way to infuse extra spark energy into that small, innocuous looking box that gave the frames life. It hurt, knowing that even after the war he would have no symbiotes. His function called out for smaller sparks, to nurture and care for. His processor partitioned, medically ordered, to keep the Carrier coding at bay.

So Hound would creep back to his shared quarters each night and pull up a holopicture of his own symbiotes wrapped around him and smiling as a long dead friend had taken the shot. 

Reaching out to ghost fingers over the image, spark aching, subspace pocket empty, and emotions spilling out.

He popped his dock door, like he did at the end of every cycle, and took out the shell of his last symbiote. Carefully turning the gray frame over in his hands and manipulating it from recorder form to root form. Running his hands from head to the tip of the tail, opening his chest plates and holding it close. The room glowing as coolant tears dripped down to splash over cured metal.


End file.
